Love, Loss, Hope, Repeat
by FrenchieLeigh
Summary: ONESHOT: As Okita faces the loss of everything he holds dear, Saitou offers comfort to his best friend in the unfeeling terror of the hospital waiting room. Side fic/Pre-Striptease


**Author's Note: **I know I'm pretty terrible for writing this, for multiple reasons. Firstly, I just started _Striptease,_ how can there be a side-fic already? Well that's because this is just some background info. It's not really important background info, and originally I intended to write it just as a couple paragraphs in the appropriate chapter, but then my tragedy loving brain took off.

I decided that I had to have it as its own fic because like I said, Shou brings on the sadtimes and I really just don't want to put something _this_ heavy in a rather lighthearted fic. Also, that story is not about Okita and Shousha.

I know that I should wait and write this later, or maybe save it and post it later, but I can't. There are no spoilers for my plans with _Striptease_, so just enjoy a little background on Okita and Saitou's friendship. This is set six years before the beginning of _Striptease._

Title was inspired by (read: stolen from) the title of a Carbon Leaf album that I happen to really enjoy. Fic was inspired by pretty much any Death Cab for Cutie song ever. Ben Gibbard really knows how to break my heart without fail. ;_;

Oh, and here's my **WARNING** for this piece, just in case. **blood. tragedy. pro choice vs. pro life. minors. Grey's Anatomy style medical emergencies. **Okay so maybe I made that last one up a little bit, but I did take a lot of this chapter from a point in my life when I watched Grey's for 8 hours every day. ...no shame.

Also, I mean no healthcare industry bashing here (my hospital stay was quite lovely!), it's all for drama.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**Love, Loss, Hope, Repeat**

_Love._

It was almost summer.

Lounging on his bed, seventeen year old Okita Soushi had his hands glued to his xbox controller, never tearing his eyes from the screen of his bedroom television. Across the room, his best friend Saitou Hajime was reclining in a spinny computer chair, mimicking this position with his feet up on the desk.

"How are exams going, sempai?" Okita asked this without eye contact, grinning in victory as he landed a headshot on the enemy.

Three years older, at twenty, Saitou was completing his second year of university while Okita made preparations to lead his class in their high school graduation.

"Shitty," Saitou replied, "boring as hell."

Okita laughed at this. "I bet you've aced them all."

"Naturally," he said.

A female voice broke through the sounds of gunshots and clicking buttons, signaling the arrival of Okita's girlfriend, Yamata Shousha. Her parents were away on vacation and she was staying here while exams were underway.

"Hey Saitou," she greeted him with a smile and a small wave. He didn't acknowledge her, never really having been fond of her, but tolerating her nonetheless.

She wasn't offended by this; this had been the norm since the past ten or so years, and she shrugged it off, turning her attention to Okita.

"I'm taking a break from studying," she told him with a sigh, "I'm going to go downstairs and make a smoothie. Do you want one?"

"Sempai?" he asked Saitou, who gave a curt nod. Flashing a grin at Shousha, he nodded, "yeah, we do."

She ducked out of the doorway and, pushing himself on his elbows, Okita twisted to face the entrance and called out to her. She poked her head back into his bedroom with curious brown eyes, flicking her black side bangs out of her vision.

"Yeah?"

"Do you need any help studying?" he asked. He never studied a day in his life and still he came out on top, but for all of her efforts, the only subject that Shousha managed to excel in was art. Her grades were never terrible, but every B- was a struggle, a constant battle with textbooks and worksheets.

It was lucky for her that she was the daughter of the wealthiest family in Tokyo.

"Ill be okay," she said, "you have fun."

He gave her another smile, one that looked best on a lovesick puppy, and Saitou sighed. These two were forever googly eyed and giddy and if he hadn't been completely immune to it, he may have puked. Their entire academy knew they were high school sweethearts, though anyone who had known them for longer knew that their disgusting obsession with each other had begun in elementary school.

Saitou made a mental note never to fall in love.

"Well," Okita said, resuming the game he had paused, unable to keep an excited grin off his face. "I have some exciting news."

Saitou slid his gaze over to his friend. Nothing good would come of this, if he knew that expression well, which he did.

"And what might that be?" he asked dryly.

Okita was silent for a moment, sitting in his smirk, and sending a grenade across the battlefield.

"I'm gonna be a dad."

_**Thud!**_

Saitou's feet slid off the desk, landing heavily on the floor. Slamming his thumb down on the start button, he swiveled in his chair, narrow golden eyes baring into Okita's large, shimmering brown ones.

"_What?_"

"Shou-chan's pregnant!"

The hair on the back of Saitou's neck rose. "You had _best_ be joking."

But Okita wasn't joking. Hopping down from his bed, he opened up a drawer and pulled out a shopping bag. Rummaging through it, he pulled out a tiny white onesie sporting the image of a puppy in a wagon, the words, _Daddy's best friend_ embroidered in red beneath it.

Saitou blanched. Then his face took on a dark expression and he stood, snatching the tiny item from Okita's hands and shoving it back into the bag.

"You are an _idiot_," he seethed, jabbing his finger into the small chest of his friend, "I never thought _you_ would be so irresponsible."

"I wasn't irresponsible," Okita said defensively. "I knew exactly what I was doing."

Saitou lowered his hand and stepped back. "Don't you dare tell me you two fools were _trying._"

"Well, no," he admitted, pulling out some more baby clothes and laying them out on the bed, smoothing them, "but we weren't exactly..._not_ trying."

Angrily, Saitou stormed over to the chair he had been occupying and thrust himself into it, feeling betrayed. This wasn't supposed to happen. They had _plans_. Okita was going to university, and then he'd be joining the police force with Saitou to fight for justice. He was going to have a career, a good reputation, and a respectable life. He was _not_ going to have a baby. Not now.

"I can't believe you," Saitou said angrily, resuming the game. He needed to shoot something. "You're class president. You're valedictorian."

Okita shrugged. "Yeah?"

"And you've been having _unprotected sex._"

"I love her."

"You're _seventeen!_" Saitou roared, "you don't know what you're doing!"

Calming, he took a breath, adding darkly, "You should have it taken care of."

Hands balled into fists at his side, Okita glowered across the room. Saitou had never used his age against him before. Saitou had never used anything against him before. In fact, the two of them had never been on opposing sides of much anything until this moment.

He could accept Saitou's shock, maybe his unkind tone and condescending words, but he could not, _would_ not, accept him suggesting that he should kill his unborn child.

"You are not my father, Hajime."

Saitou paused. It was rare that Okita's tone was anything less than jovial.

"No," he said softly, "I am not your father."

Okita's father was dead. Katsujiro had been a prestigious diplomat, an honored member of society, and an influential politician. He had been honest, kind, and intelligent, an excellent father and a doting husband. Now he was dead, nothing more than ashes in an urn in the Okita house living room.

Six bullets from a street gang had ended him two years ago.

"I thought you'd be happy for me."

Okita's tone had lost its edge, replaced by disappointment and that stung Saitou. Okita was a sensitive type of kid and though he was as tough as anything, he wasn't afraid to show when his feelings were hurt, no matter how rare the occasion.

Sighing, Saitou relaxed. "How far along is she?" he asked, not really caring, but not knowing what else to say.

Okita perked up, thinking for a moment, before holding up his hands and wiggling his fingers. "seven weeks!"

So they had time then. Graduation was a mere two weeks away. No one would ever have to know. They could be married immediately and no one would even bat an eye. Marriage between the Okita and Yamata families was inevitable anyway.

"I want a little girl," Okita said, sitting back down and smiling, "a little Shou-chan."

"It doesn't matter," Saitou replied gruffly, "ten fingers, ten toes. That's all that is important."

It was a small gesture, but it was appreciated regardless.

They sat in silence for a minute, Okita smiling down at the tiny clothes he had bought the day before. Shousha didn't know it yet, but he had a whole collection of baby items, bought with money he made from tutoring.

It hadn't even been a week since they had found out, but the more he thought about it, the more excited he became. They would be able to live quite comfortably. Shousha had an enormous fortune attached to her and even though he didn't want to rely on her for money, she had suggested using her funds while he worked hard studying through university and she stayed at home.

He was happy for this. Her support was unmeasurable. He had dreams and goals and all of their life she had stood by his side, cheering him on until each one was accomplished. No one knew him like his Shou-chan.

A scream broke through the silence of the house, followed by the shattering of glass and both boys snapped their attention to the doorway.

"Shou-chan?" Okita called out. "Are you okay?" She wasn't the most graceful creature and had been known to drop precious glassware on more than one occasion.

A low moan crawled up the stairs and when she screamed again, they jumped up and hurdled down the stairs, jumping three at a time.

Saitou reached the kitchen first and at the sight, thrust his arm out to stop Okita from entering. Pushing down his hand, Okita plunged forward, but froze as his bare feet splashed in the puddle that the dropped batch of smoothie had made.

_Blood._

It was everywhere. Shousha was desperately holding herself up with her elbows on the counter, her face ashen and her body trembling. The back of her ivory skirt was soaked in crimson and a thick, sickly trail of blood ran down her right leg, splashing onto the floor.

"Help me, Soushi," she whimpered.

"We'll take my car," Saitou stated, tearing up the stairs to retrieve his keys. It would take too long for an ambulance to arrive.

Shousha's elbows gave out and she collapsed onto the floor, sobbing. Trance broken, Okita dashed over to her, pulling her up into his arms and looking around the room desperately, though for what, he didn't know.

The scent that traveled up to his nose was nauseating. Strawberries, blackberries, and yogurt, mixed with a strong metallic odor that was difficult to place, even though he knew exactly where it came from.

The kitchen itself looked like the scene of a murder. The broken glass, the unfinished smoothie, splattered around like ice cream-vomit, and the blood. _So much blood_. Small red handprints danced along the counter and large, angry smears swept along the floor as if painted with the brush of Satan himself.

In the back seat of Saitou's car, Okita clung to the small adolescent girl in his arms, pressing his cheek against her crown.

"It hurts so bad," she whimpered, bloody hand clutching the pristine white of his school shirt.

"You'll be okay," he whispered, tightening his hold on her and fighting back the tears of uncertainty, "I promise I won't let you die."

She looked up at him, face paler than the cream uniform they wore, and her eyes fluttered closed.

"Don't go to sleep!" he cried, slapping her face lightly, "Shou-chan stay awake!"

She murmured something incoherent and her head lolled back, staring up at the roof of the car, eyes heavy and unnaturally glossy.

The drive was long and terrifying, though none of them remembered much of it. Traffic violations stacked up, accidents may or may not have happened, and Saitou found himself cursing more in that fifteen minutes than he ever had in his entire life.

When they burst into the emergency room, various personnel yelled and cursed at them, but at that moment, neither Okita nor Saitou cared about etiquette. After what seemed like an eternity of screaming and more cursing, a doctor pulled Shousha from Okita's arms and the next thing he knew, he was sitting barefoot in a waiting area, staring ahead at a potted plant, with no recollection of how he got there.

A doctor came out shortly after and, addressing both of them, clutched her clipboard in a casually professional manner.

"Are either of you the father?"

Okita looked up and she continued. "Were you aware of the pregnancy, sir?"

"Yes," he breathed, voice hollow. _Was_ he aware_? _Surely she mean to say '_are.'_ _Are_ you aware? _Yes ma'am. Yes I am._

The doctor nodded. "I regret to inform you that the pregnancy was ectopic. The egg was fertilized in her fallopian tube, adhering to it, unlike in a normal pregnancy which occurs in the uterus."

He stared ahead at her. He knew this. He had learned in in school. Didn't everyone learn how pregnancy works? Why was she telling him? He _knew_.

"A-are they okay?" he asked, standing on shaking legs.

It was a stupid question and he felt dumb for asking, but he couldn't even see straight, never mind come up with a decent inquiry.

The doctor blinked slowly, never once showing emotion. "In these situations, the baby cannot be saved. We will do all in our power to save the mother. She is experiencing an excessive amount of both external and internal hemorrhaging and there is a chance that we may need to perform an emergency hysterectomy. Please fill out these forms. I will return with an update when I can."

Saitou accepted the clipboard and she left.

Stunned, Okita lowered himself back into the chair, never taking his eyes from the potted plant.

_Loss._

"This is all my fault," he whispered.

"It's not your fault," Saitou said softly. "These things happen. I don't know why but they just... they do."

Tears pricked at the corner of Okita's eyes and as he let them fall, he stared through the blur at his hands, pink from her blood, and the sleeves of his shirt, the buttons, his thighs, all of them stained with what _he_ did.

"I've never seen so much blood. I didn't know one girl could have so much blood."

Saitou was seated next to him, not quite as pale, but shaking and breathing heavily.

_You should have it taken care of_.

His own callous words pierced him, a disgusting statement he had uttered not half an hour ago. Who was he to judge? Who was he to choose whether someone else's child should be born or not?

Looking over at his best friend, his knuckles whitened around the pen in his hands and he turned his gaze to the paperwork before him. Okita wasn't fit to fill it out, and, knowing most of the information, he clicked open the writing utensil, and with a trembling hand, began to fill in the blank spaces.

"I was so ready to be a father," Okita said, gritting his teeth to hold back the wracking sobs that were undoubtedly threatening to take over his body. "I was _so ready_."

Saitou said nothing, continuing on with the paperwork and after a few more minutes of heavy breathing, the seventeen year old broke down completely. It was a frightening sight, but Saitou had seen it before, the night the police had come to notify the family of his father's murder. Okita hadn't showed much emotion at first, being strong for his mother and his two older sisters, but when he had knocked on the door of the Saitou household late that night, he was completely incoherent.

Saitou had been surprised that Okita had showed up at his house instead of Yamata house and to this day, Okita would smile at him and say, _You're my best friend, sempai!_, but Saitou knew, and respected, the truth: he hadn't wanted to appear weak before his girlfriend. She wouldn't have judged him, they all knew this, but Okita had an old sense of pride, and while he wasn't afraid of his emotions, he also made a point of keeping his composure in situations where others might find theirs lacking.

Except now.

He deserved to grieve, Saitou decided, setting aside the clipboard. Impulsively, he had deemed Okita too young to start a family, and incapable of making such a decision. That wasn't the case at all. Okita had single handedly brought his family out of their sorrow, achieved top rank in his class, got a full scholarship to his choice university _and _held a part time job with full time hours helping his peers prepare for their exam all while preparing for graduation himself.

If any man knew exactly what he was doing with his life, it was Okita Soushi.

With a few shaking breaths, Okita wiped his eyes and leaned back in the chair, grasping for equilibrium.

"I'm sorry," he said, sniffing and looking towards Saitou with a forced smile, "I'll pay to get your car cleaned up."

Saitou stared. "Fuck the car," he growled. "Dad'll get me a new one."

Okita leaned forward, forearms on his knees. "Yeah well, I'm sorry."

The doctor came back again, followed by a nurse. Her expression was as professionally blank as had been before and Saitou wondered how many deaths she announced daily without any sign of remorse.

"She is in surgery," she announced, taking yet another bulky clipboard from the nurse and handing it to Okita, "we are doing what we can, but we need consent for an emergency hysterectomy. The tube has ruptured and we have discovered cysts on her uterine lining."

"O-okay," Okita said, nodding, "yes."

She smiled, a false sign of hope. "Are you eighteen? You'll need to sign this form."

"I'm not." He couldn't lie, and in that moment, he cursed his honest nature.

Her smile faded. "Oh. Then can you please contact her parents and have them come in immediately? We will need to perform this surgery within the next hour if there is to be any chance for her survival."

Okita blinked. "Her parents are... they're in Las Vegas," he said. "I can sign it. It's okay."

"I'm sorry," the doctor said, "but I can not let you do that. Does she have any other relatives that we can contact?"

Panic was beginning to rise in his chest. If she didn't have surgery, she would die. She would die in an hour. One hour. A lifetime of being together and she had a mere sixty minutes to live.

"But I'm her boyfriend!" he protested, "I-I-I love her, th-hat was my baby! Why can't I sign?"

"I understand your situation," she replied, "however, this is a life altering surgery. I can not allow a minor to make that decision."

"I'll do it."

Saitou rose from his seat, snatching the clipboard and the pen from the doctor's hands.

"Her parents are on vacation and I'm watching the house," he lied, "I'm responsible for her in their absence."

"Do you have identification?"

Reaching into his back pocket, he yanked out his wallet and shoved it into her hands.

"This is fucked up," he said angrily, scrawling his signature across the paper. "Needing permission to save someone's life. What kind of doctor are you?"

"It is a life altering surgery sir,"

"Bullshit!" he bellowed, tossing her the paperwork. "Life altering surgery or death? It's not a difficult fucking decision."

Ever calm, and used to the attacks of hysterical family and friends, the doctor simply looked at him. "That is a matter of opinion, sir. Not every patient feels that way."

"So you mean to tell me that if Okita had come in here alone you would have let her die?"

"We would have done everything in our power to save her life, sir."

"Damn good that would have done," he spat, "You got lucky then, because that girl in there happens to be the heiress to Yamata Corp. You should be grateful that I just saved your ass trillions of yen in lawsuits."

For the first time, fear flashed through this woman's eyes and Saitou's upper lip curled. So all she needed to know what who she was dealing with? What a system. How many people died then, he wondered, because the hospital would suffer no loss if they only 'did what they could'?

Chest heaving, he sat back down, running his hands through his hair.

"Doctor?" Okita's voice was small in comparison to Saitou's booming vibrato that had gained the attention of more onlookers than they would have liked. "With this surgery, she'll be alright?"

Sympathy reflected in her eyes at his hopeful tone. "There is a sixy-five percent chance that she will make it through the surgery."

"Sixty-five," he repeated.

"Yes, we will do the best we can."

It was all he could hope for at this point. When she left again, he licked his lips, taking calming breaths to steady his racing heart. Sixty-five was more than fifty. It was more than half. Slighty more than half. Nearly fifty-fifty. Live or die.

"Thank you, Hajime."

Saitou looked over at Okita and sighed, then shrugged. "Yeah well, she's a pain in the ass as it is. I can't have her dying on my watch."

"I really do love her," he said quietly, "I know that we're young and we seem naive but she is my match. She always has been."

Saitou frowned, unbuttoning his black dress shirt. "I know, Sou."

It wasn't often that either of them referred to each other by their given names. Okita was so accustomed to calling him _sempai_, Saitou wasn't sure he'd ever stop, even though recently there had been a few 'Saitou-san's making their way into his vocabulary.

For Saitou, he just wasn't soft or sentimental. He'd always called Okita by his family name because as a child, that's what his father had always called Katsujiro. It had just stuck. As he got older, he found himself more apt to refer to any person by their family name just for the sake of being professional and keeping personal distance. People weren't worth getting close to.

Pulling his shirt off his arms, he smoothed out his white undershirt and offered the black one to his friend. "Here," he said gruffly, "there's only a little bit of blood on the cuff."

Okita looked down at his own clothing, now turning a repulsive shade of brown and took the clean shirt with a smile.

"Thanks," he said, grateful to shed a part of this nightmare. Saitou grunted in response.

"I'm going to marry her," Okita vowed, rolling up the sleeves that were several inches too long, "if she pulls through, if she comes home with me, I'm going to marry her."

Saitou put up his feet on the table in the middle of their grouping of chairs. "Let's just get through tonight," he said, leaning back and closing his eyes.

"Yeah," Okita whispered, curling up on his own chair, using his forearms as a pillow.

When he finally drifted off into sleep, Saitou cracked open one of his eyes and peeked over. He knew he wouldn't be able to achieve sleep here.

His heart, hardened by his upbringing, softened a bit in that moment. Okita was so dedicated to everything he did and everyone that he had in his life and that sort of strength was something to be admired.

It had been hours since they had arrived at the hospital and the noise had dwindled. The entire building seemed to be asleep. Everyone except him. A familiar sight came into view, the doctor, and Saitou opened his other eye, sitting up carefully.

She stopped, not stepping foot onto the rug that separated the Hospital's hall from the tiny waiting area. Saitou looked to Okita, sleeping soundly, exhausted from the day's events and then back to the doctor, who offered him nothing more than a smile. It was a soft smile, encouraging and hopeful.

He could have stood, and he could have asked about Shousha's condition, but he didn't. He didn't have to. With a small nod, he acknowledged her silent update and settled back into his chair. Perhaps the small man in the next chair would have wanted to be woken up, but Saitou would let him sleep.

_Hope._

"I better be your best man, you little shit," he whispered, before finally closing his eyes and letting a long overdue slumber claim him.

Recovery would be long and difficult for both of them, but he would be there.

As young as they all were, he had seen it all, and been through it all with both of them. He now realized that he always would. That was just the sort of man he was, the sort of man he strived to _be_. Dedicated to those he loved, the very few people that he allowed into his life, people worth getting close to.

_Repeat. _

xxxx


End file.
